Belief
by haveyouseenmyhaggis
Summary: Clint Barton does not believe in Gods - not even when he's shown one. But he believes in what he knows how to believe in - people. And always, always himself. Warning; mentions of abuse/child abuse.


Clint Barton has never believed in a God.

He remembers being five years old sitting in the bathroom with blood dripping from his nose - an injury at his father's hand. He didn't cry, he just watched as his mother wet a cloth in the sink and moved to help him.

"Mommy?" he asked quietly, pale grey eyes fixed on her face. He wanted her to tell him why this happened. Why Daddy hit him, why she was crying, why he shouted... And when will it stop?

"Ssh, sweetheart," she told him softly, pressing the cloth to his face. "Just have faith. This'll work out."

"How do you know?" he prompted, squirming away from the cloth.

"God has a way of working these things out," she assured him.

"God?" Clint questioned further, not understanding the concept. Was God a person? A thing? A place? "What's God?"

"Everything," came the reply. "But he's watching out for us, Clint."

But Clint didn't understand. He remembers asking his older brother, Barney, what God was and whether _he _was God. Barney just laughed at him, "You don't want to be thinkin' too hard about that, Clint. Not like it'll do you any good."

But Clint _did _keep thinking about it. Six years old, he asked his school teacher what God was and he was told: "He makes sure people are okay in the end, Clint. He deals with the bad people and makes good things happen to good people."

When Clint's father got drunk that night and Clint was left bruised and crying, he dragged himself to the mirror and examined the damage deciding this must be God dealing with bad people. Bad things happen to bad people, don't they?

And so Clint tried so very hard to be a good person. He behaved, he tried to help at home and at school and he tried to do his homework well...

Aged seven, Clint could count the bruises properly. But he kept trying to be _good_. Maybe he could make this God proud of him? Make him worth saving?

When his parents died in a car crash, Clint (now aged eight "and a quarter!") couldn't help but wonder if this was God dealing with the bad people. His father deserved this, he decided.

But ... But then that didn't make sense either! Why did his mother die...? She was a good person, surely?

Until he was ten years old, Clint learnt how to draw his own right and wrong. He stayed in an orphanage and he found himself in trouble every other day. He didn't often go to school and he ended up in a lot of fights. This is when Clint learnt to hit back when he needed to. Fighting back did not make you _bad_ he decided eventually.

He'd given up on God by the time he was eleven, by the time he runs to join the circus with his brother. He gave up because he didn't understand. Clint learnt to believe in right and wrong instead. Clint learnt to believe in himself.

Fourteen years old, Clint met a monk residing in a caravan in the circus. He remembers being afraid of the man and avoiding him. He didn't understand him. He was sent to fetch something from him once though, and he found himself interrupting the man's rigorous prayer ritual. "Are you talking to God?" Clint had asked before he could stop himself.

The monk told him, "Yes." He was surprisingly patient and understanding, Clint remembers. The man had sat him down and explained his faith - explained how he liked the reassurance of having someone watching out for him, something to believe in.

"But why do you believe in something you can't see?" Clint wanted to know, the question burning into him.

The monk's answer was inadequate and Clint continued not to believe in a God. He learnt to believe his eyes instead - to believe what he could see and understand and learn from.

Clint was, aged nineteen got himself in trouble in the circus and was beaten and left for dead. Bad things happen to bad people... The words came back to haunt him again but he pushed onwards, taking to the streets with his new-found archery skills and trying his best to be a good person.

It was later with S.H.I.E.L.D though that Clint realised what it was like to be a god. He could take down bad people, he could save lives, he could do _good. _And he loved it. But it's also then that Clint really started to learn to trust people and believe in someone other than himself.

It was Phil Coulson that first drew that out of him. A father figure, someone who offered a helping hand and helped build him up and held him if he ever needed that - and Clint found quite early on that just occasionally, he did.

And so Clint learnt to believe in people, not in gods.

Now, however, Clint finds himself faced with the concept of Asgard and of Gods that he cannot deny. Again, he fails to understand so he rejects the idea. He remembers telling Phil about it after he first rans into Thor: "Thought Gods were meant to bring peace. To guide us and stuff. Not trample us and destroy us."

Phil had tried to explain the concept of Norse Gods and Greek Gods and Roman Gods to the archer, telling him how they had respective duties.

This didn't make much sense to the archer either. "...They're just _people _really... They're no different..."

Clint didn't know how to believe in people without having reason to do so. These gods? He'd seen nothing in them yet worth believing in. But Clint does believe in people, now... And he treats Thor as such - a person, not a God.

So no, Clint Barton does not believe in God or Gods and he doesn't believe in much. But he believes in what he knows how to believe in - people, morals, and himself.


End file.
